Rating: NC-17 for Wincest and language
Word Count: 4,650ish
Spoilers: Through Season Two. Future fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine. I just like to take them out and play with them every once in awhile, so please don't sue.
Author's Note: Thank you so much to dontyouwaitup for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Summary: Sam’s running on pure adrenaline now, too hyped to sleep, afraid to look at the clock, knowing every minute is bringing him one step closer to losing Dean forever.
feedback is always welcome
He waits in the dark for Dean to come home.
Yellow lights stand tall at the edge of the parking lot, illuminating the falling snow as it gathers on the blacktop and blankets the parked cars. A police car glides past and instinctively, Sam steps back behind the curtain, pulling it across his body. It’s the only car he’s seen in the past two hours. The world holds its breath, only the hum of the security lights breaking through the muffled and dull silence.
He shuts the window against the cold and paces around the bed, too wound up to sleep. Picking up the remote, he turns the television on, ignoring the purple and blue shadows dancing along the walls. He tugs his t-shirt off over his head and kneels down to fiddle with the valve on the ancient radiator, sweat breaking out along his brow. Cursing, he gives up and cracks open the window again, staring out at the deserted parking lot.
Sam moves back to the book-strewn table and unearths his laptop. A massive, leather-bound book falls into his lap and he catches it with one hand before it falls to the floor. Sam’s running on pure adrenaline now, too hyped to sleep, afraid to look at the clock, knowing every minute is bringing him one step closer to losing Dean forever. There was something he read before, something that might--
Dean opens the motel room door and stands there for a moment before closing the door behind him. “Why’s it a million freaking degrees in here, Sam?” He opens the window wider.
“Heater’s broken. Where’ve you been, Dean?”
“Here I thought you were in your underwear because you’re happy to see me.” Dean throws a pile of newspapers on the bed before peeling off his jacket, avoiding Sam’s eyes.
“Dude, it’s almost four in the morning. Where’ve you been?”
“Out,” Dean mumbles. “Doing stuff.”
“Yeah, well, I almost made you sleep in the car, dumbass.” Sam looks down at his laptop before closing it with a soft click. He shuffles the books on the table before pulling one of the thicker, older ones into his lap. There had been something he read, something he meant to bookmark before he and Dean argued earlier. It was factum of…what?
Dean slumps on the edge of the bed across from Sam, struggling to get out of his button-down shirt over his head without ripping it. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says, flinging his shirt towards the open duffle in the corner.
Sam doesn’t find what he’s looking for and drops the book on the floor. He picks up another one and lays it in the cradle of his ankle crossing his knee. “Look. I’m sorry about before. It’s just, we’re running out of time, you know?”
“Nah, I know. But all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Dean says, mimicking Jack Nicholson.
Sam smiles. “So, where were you?”
Dean looks up and gives him a slight smile. “Out. Just wanted to drink a few beers and cross some stuff off on my list.”
“Is this the same list that landed us at Disney World two months ago?”
“Yeah, so? I wanted to ride Space Mountain. Besides, you weren’t complaining when we hooked up with Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty later that night.”
Sam laughs. “Correction: You hooked up with Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. I was back at the room researching, remember?”
Dean heels one of his shoes off and flicks it at Sam. He looks up, a dreamy smile on his face. “Oh, yeah. I forgot to cross that one off. Anyway, I think I found one last job for us.”
“What? A job? Are you serious? We’ve got two weeks left, Dean! Bobby just emailed me some information to check out—”
"I was going to leave tonight, go alone, but I couldn't do it." Dean's voice is low and rough and he stares at his hands.
Sam freezes in the middle of turning a page. When he speaks, he tries to keep his voice from shaking. "You were going to leave without saying goodbye," he says bluntly.
"Was gonna," Dean says. He scrubs his hands over his hair, rubs at the back of his neck. "Couldn't." He looks up at Sam and holds his gaze for a beat before turning away. "Freakin' snow-."
"Dean." A strange sensation runs down Sam's spine, the hair on his arms rising.
"I think it's time to let me go, Sam."
“No,” Sam says, shaking his head.
“Listen to me,” Dean looks up and his face is white. “It’s been fun while it lasted, but I don’t want you near me when that bitch sics her hounds on me.” Sam’s shaking his head, throwing the book aside and opening another one. “Once I’m gone, I want you to go back to school. I want you to finish law school and become a kick ass lawyer. I want you,” Dean pauses. “I want you to get married and have lots of kids.”
Sam slams the book down on the table. “Shut up, Dean. It’s not that easy.”
“It is that easy. Behind the wheel well in the trunk there’s an envelope with money, a new social security number and credit history. You’ll need,” Dean’s voice breaks. “You’ll need to move on.”
“Are you crazy? That’s not going to happen, Dean.”
“Sam, when I watched you die,” Sam shivers at the expression on Dean’s face when he stops speaking and raises his eyes to Sam. The scar on his lower back twitches. “Anyway, the deal I made didn’t matter. I could bring you back and fix things I broke. You don’t deserve this life.”
“Whether or not I deserve this life no longer enters into the equation, Dean.”
Dean stands and rubs his fingers hard over the bridge of his nose. “Look. I should’ve been dead twice already. There’s no last minute reprieve from the Governor upstairs, no Hail Mary pass this time. Just, like. Name your kid after me, or something, alright? We'll be even.” Dean smiles. He freaking smiles and Sam's had enough.
He leaves the chair and pushes Dean backward, both hands on his chest, red hot anger flashing through him. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? Do you honestly think that if you hadn’t shown up…if I hadn’t gone to Jericho with you Jessica would still be alive?” Dean ducks his head and Sam knows, finally knows. “He still would have killed her. Nothing you did would have changed that. If you weren’t there, I don’t know what I would have done. I might have become like Ava, working for him.”
Dean looks up. “You wouldn’t have.”
“You don’t know that! I just, I can’t understand why you think your life is so worthless, Dean,” Sam says. “Don’t you understand the reason I found Le Grange is because I needed you to live? Why can’t you understand that if Dad hadn’t made that deal, I would? Why can’t you get that? I would have found a way to bring you back. Why can’t you get it through your thick skull I won’t give up on you?”
Dean sighs and there’s an eternity of pain in the brief, exhaled breath. “Sam.”
Sam cups Dean’s face with both hands. “You’re mine. You’ll never belong to her,” Sam says, leaning down and pressing his mouth to Dean’s, forgiving the hardness of his lips.
Dean pushes Sam away and rubs the back of his hand across his mouth. “What the fuck was that, Sam?”
“Dean,” Sam begins, stopping and dropping his hands to his side, staring at Dean. “Look, I’m-” He shakes his head. “You know what? I’m not sorry.” Sam closes the distance between them and kisses Dean again and this time Dean groans, the noise vibrating against Sam’s mouth. Sam tilts his head, Dean’s hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, lips opening under Sam’s insistent tongue.
Sam walks with Dean until the back of his brother's knees hit the bed. “Sam,” Dean gasps, his hands pushing against his brother’s bare chest, breaking his mouth away. “Stop.”
He presses Dean backwards until he falls. Sam drops a knee on the bed between Dean’s legs, moving his body over his. “We’re already damned, right?”
Sam kisses Dean’s throat, his mouth moving slowly against the rough stubble. “I am. Because if she wants you, she’ll have to take me too. Two Winchesters for the price of one. Maybe she’ll make the front page of Demon Daily.”
“That’s not funny, Sam. I can’t let you do this,” Dean rumbles, but his hands are slowly drifting up and down his brother’s back.
Sam’s buries his face into Dean’s neck and scrapes his teeth over his pulse, relishing steady beat of blood moving through his veins. He needs Dean to know he’s the gravity keeping Sam tethered to the ground.
“I want to.” Sam leans back, watching Dean’s face, his hands reaching down and edging up his t-shirt, running his thumbs over the ridges of muscle and slowly kisses the bare skin he reveals. “Let me, Dean.”
Dean’s voice shakes when he whispers Sam’s name.
Sam slides his hand below the waist of Dean’s jeans and unbuttons his fly and nuzzles his mouth against the erection he finds. He slides back up Dean’s chest and with one hand pulls the t-shirt up and over his head while his other strokes his brother’s hidden cock. “I’m going with you tomorrow,” Sam says, his fingers dipping beneath the elastic and softly touch the moisture beading on the head of Dean’s cock. It twitches beneath his fingers.
“I know,” Dean says, raising himself up on his elbows and trying to laugh. “If I weren’t already going to Hell, Sam—Oh, God!”
Sam’s taken the head of Dean’s cock into his mouth and the smell of it, musk, sweat and ivory soap—so very Dean—is almost enough to send Sam over the edge himself. He kisses the head of Dean’s cock, swirling his tongue around the head, enveloping it deeper into his mouth. He encloses his fist around the base of Dean’s cock and tightens his hand, stroking down to the base. Dean’s hips rise up off the mattress plunging more of his cock down Sam’s throat, groaning and Sam uses his free hand to yank Dean’s jeans down under his hips, wanting more to touch, to stroke.
He almost comes a second time when Dean’s hand finds the hole in his boxers and encloses around him, freeing his cock and shifting his hand, steady pressure slowly moving up and down, pushing his already hard dick to the breaking point. His fingers are soft and tentative and Sam’s mouth responds the same way.
“You’re not leaving,” Sam whispers.
Dean flings his head back before placing his free hand around the back of Sam’s neck and tugging him up on top of him, his mouth rising up, seeking Sam’s. He gasps against Dean’s mouth, Dean grabbing his hips and effortlessly flipping him onto his back. Sam kisses Dean as if this; just this can save him from the demon and keep Dean with him forever. His mouth slides over Dean’s jaw, finding a sensitive spot just below the stubble and sucks the skin into his mouth.
Dean locks his body onto Sam's, hands pushing Sam’s thighs apart wider, higher, rocking his hips back and forth, naked cocks sliding against, along, together until the friction becomes too much and Sam comes, the moans from his orgasm filling Dean’s mouth.
“Yeah, come for me, Sammy,” Dean whispers, thrusting three more times before he throws his head back and comes. He collapses against Sam, his forehead resting in the nook of his brother’s shoulder, trying to breathe again.
“Dean,” Sam pants.
“Don’t you dare tell me you love me,” Dean says and Sam softly laughs, his hands slowly stroking up and down his brother’s spine.
“Fuck you, bitch.”
Laughter rumbles from deep within Dean and he pushes off Sam and rolls onto his back.
Walking out from the bathroom after showering, thread-bare towel wrapped around his hips, Sam smiles at Dean’s sprawled body on the bed. Dean’s arm is thrown over his eyes and Sam thinks he’s asleep until Dean says, “Do we need to talk about this?”
Sam shakes his head, sitting on the edge of the bed, towel drying his hair. “No.”
“Works for me.”
Sam finishes with his hair and throws the towel at Dean, walking back to the table and picking up and opening the top book at random. “So explain to me why we need to drop everything and work this job you found.” The bedsprings squeak behind him, Dean rolling over onto his side, hand supporting his head. He throws the wet towel back at Sam.
“Because kids are dying.” Dean stands and picks up the newspapers he discarded when he came into the room. He hands them to Sam and switches on the bedside light. “Three girls disappeared a few days ago while walking on ice covered pond not far from here.”
“Fell through the ice?” Sam asks, putting the open book down and unfolds the first newspaper. It’s dated three days ago.
Grabbing their dad’s journal, Dean sits on the bed behind Sam. He starts flicking through the pages until he finds one titled ‘Lake Monsters’ “That’s what the fourth girl reported. She made it back to the shore. But when the authorities arrived, all three holes were iced over again.”
“Okay,” Sam says, reading the headline. “We’ve got a freak snowstorm blowing up here; the holes would’ve iced back over on their own.”
Dean nods. “Yeah, maybe. Except yesterday they returned with an icebreaker, intent on tearing up the lake so they could dredge it.”
Sam’s fingers tighten on the newspaper before laying it aside. “And?”
“The girls were lying in the snow on the side of the lake. Their hearts were missing.”
Sam stares at the gray morning light filtering through the window for a moment, before turning back to the book, his eyes rapidly moving over the Latin passages. “When do you want to leave?”
Sam closes the car door behind him and stares out over the barren trees surrounding the lake. Dean’s at the back of the trunk, loading his arms with supplies. “Look, Dean. I think I might have found—”
“Can’t hear about it, Sammy.” Dean says, handing Sam a large coil of rope. “You need to work it out on your own, remember? Don’t need you dropping dead on me.”
Sam frowns, following Dean down the embankment. The moment they cross the police tape, the sound of crying reaches them. They look at one another once before running to the lake’s edge. A little girl stands alone near the center of the pond, her bright red mittens covering her face. Dean calls for her, but the little girl shakes her head, blonde braids swinging, moving further away.
“I’ve got to go get her,” Dean says, turning to Sam, motioning with his hand for the coil of rope over Sam’s shoulder.
Sam’s hand tightens on the rope. “Why you?”
Dean makes grabby hand motions for the rope. “You can’t be serious, right? You outweigh me by a hundred pounds. You’ll crash right through the ice.”
Sam’s face tightens. “Maybe twenty, tops” he says, shaking his head, handing the rope to his brother.
“Stop being a pussy and help me with the knot.” Dean winds it around his waist as fast as he can, checking the knot once before carefully stepping onto the ice.
Sam ties the other end of the rope to a tree and holds the length of it in his gloved hands and says, “Be careful.”
“Just keep a hand on the other end of that rope,” Dean says, slowly walking on the ice towards the girl. “Okay,” Dean calls. “I’m coming to get you off the ice, don’t be afraid, okay?”
When Dean’s about ten feet from her, the little girl pulls her mittens down from her face and stares right at him. She screams and bolts to the left, running off the ice and up the embankment, disappearing from view.
“Son of a bitch,” Dean swears and the wind blows his words to Sam.
“Dean!” Sam yells.
Dean turns. “I’m coming back!”
He’s taken one step when a high keening sound fills the air. The ice is buckling under Dean’s weight.
“DEAN! Don’t move.”
Dean spreads his arms out, legs slightly bent, the ice moaning and popping beneath his feet. Fissures are forming spider web cracks out across the frozen lake. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Sam pulls the rope tight in hands, leaving almost no slack between him and Dean. He slides his toe along the top of the ice, testing the thickness before putting his full weight down on his foot. Dean stands fifty feet away from him, but it feels like a mile. “I’m coming to get you.”
“Don’t think that’s a—” The ice shatters beneath his feet and Dean drops down into the lake, dark water washing and splashing over the remaining ice.
He doesn’t resurface.
Sam immediately pulls on the rope and falls backwards into the snow as it snaps back, broken. Without thought to his own safety, Sam runs as far as he can before throwing his body into a slide, almost tumbling into the hole that swallowed Dean. The edges of the hole are already starting to ice back over. His outstretched arms stop him at the last minute, broken ice slicing through the thick wool of his gloves. He pulls the gloves off before plunging both arms into the hole, desperately searching for Dean. His hands disappear beneath the liquid and they move sluggishly through the water, like he’s digging in a vat of honey. A cold sweat breaks out along his body. He shouts, “Dean!”
Sam slithers headfirst into the water and it’s so cold he’s sure his heart will stop beating from the shock of it. His bare hands wave before his face and he kicks with his legs, heading towards the bottom. Tall, thick weeds sway on the lake bed with the currents of the water. Sam swims there, bubbles escaping his mouth and nose. It’s in this forest of underwater plants Sam finds Dean, dark blood floating up from a wound on the back of his head. He hangs in the depths, his eyes and mouth open, his slack arms reaching towards Sam.
Sam’s eyes open wide in horror, cheeks swollen, lungs burning from lack of oxygen. He grabs Dean’s arms and kicks his legs. It’s panic, pure and simple that fuels his ascent from the lake bottom until he explodes upwards through the hole and takes a deep breath of sweet air.
Sam summons strength he never knew he had to push Dean’s body onto the ice. The cut rope is lying next to Dean and Sam grabs it, pulling his body from the water. Sam’s freezing from jumping in after Dean, but none of it matters because Dean isn’t fucking breathing.
Sam drags Dean back to the snow covered shoreline and rolls him onto his back. His frozen fingers fumble over his brother’s neck, searching and failing to find a pulse. “No, no, no, no…” Sam chants, shaking his hands, trying to push blood back into his frozen extremities. He tilts Dean’s head back and unzippers his leather jacket far enough to get his hands over Dean’s chest. He pinches Dean’s nose and covers his mouth with Sam’s own, blowing hard enough for Dean’s chest to rise and fall three times. “Don’t you do this to me, Dean,” Sam cries, beginning chest compressions. “Don’t you dare die on me today!”
Everything is eerily calm; not even a breeze blows through trees. Sam can hear his heart beat beneath his skin, the blood flowing through his veins. He can hear the water slowly dripping from his hair, down his face and onto to Dean. He can hear everything except for the one thing he wants to hear the most. He counts slowly to thirty, listening for breath before closing his mouth over Dean’s once again.
From behind, the sound of footsteps crunching through snow startles Sam, but not enough for him to stop. “Help me,” Sam yells. “My brother fell into the lake, he’s not breathing. I need help!” His voice shakes, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. His entire body shivers violently.
A high, childish voice answers, “As if I’m going to help you.”
Sam throws a look over his shoulder, surprised to see the little girl Dean tried to save walking down the embankment. She stops just a just a few feet away, pulling the mittens from her hands. Her eyes flash red when she smiles.
“Dean’s not yours anymore.”
“Oh, Sam, I know. Trust me, I know,” she shakes her head, smiling. “The things you boys do when you’re bored entertain me so much. You have to be two of the most fucked up humans I’ve ever dealt with. But you know that’s not why I’m here. I came to talk to you.”
Sam blows his breath into Dean’s lungs. He folds his hands onto Dean's chest again, watching from the corner of his eye. She walks closer, until she’s less than a foot away from Dean’s head.
She tilts her young face forward, her red eyes searching his face. She sighs and slaps her snow suit covered thighs in impatience. “Not going the way you expected it to, huh? Thought you could save him? Why don’t you let him go? He’s beyond my reach now. He’s not going to Hell, no matter how much I think he deserves to go. You managed to find the one and only thing that could cancel my deal with your brother.” She hunkers down on her heels, elbows resting on her bent knees. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”
Sam doesn’t answer, continuing chest compressions.
“Come on,” she wheedles, “you can tell me. You had to know only an Act of God could void my deal with Dean. You’re good. He wouldn’t let you tell him,” she points a finger at Dean’s prone body. “Because then that would blow the terms of our deal and then you’d die and we couldn’t have that now could we? So how long have you known?”
Sam doesn’t answer, knowing he’s running out of time. If Dean doesn’t respond soon, Sam will enter the final stage of hypothermia and then both of them will die. Even now, he feels adrenaline leaking from his body, slowing his compressions on Dean’s chest.
“He’s here, you know,” she says, raising a hand to swat at something over her shoulder. “Refusing to go to the light, screaming at me, screaming your name,” she smiles. “Man. He’s so annoying, your poor, poor Dean.”
“I won’t let him go,” Sam’s voice shakes behind his chattering teeth.
The demon child cups her fingers into the soft snow, bringing it up and rolling it, forming a snowball. “You already let him go, didn’t you? You knew about factum of Deus. But your brother is dead. And it so happens I can help you with that. Only I can give him back to you. So, what do you think Sam? Want to save your brother? Let me help you. I can offer you the same terms. He’ll live and you’ll be mine a year from now. One Winchester brother is just as good as the other as far as I’m concerned.”
There’s something deep in his chest growing, leeching through his blood vessels, warming him from within. The power he feels is spreading to his hands and they still over Dean’s dead body. His shivering has stopped, the feeling slowly returning to his fingers. Sam refuses to acknowledge the deadly blue of Dean’s lips, his open eyes staring into nothingness. Anger pulses through Sam’s body from the healed wound in his back, his muscles and skin tingling, barreling outward from deep inside, rushing towards his hands.
Sam’s body begins to convulse, the power flowing through his veins becoming too much for him to handle. Instinctively, Sam slams both of his hands onto Dean’s chest, a small feeling of relief flooding him, the power dissipating into his brother. Dean blinks and then coughs, spitting water into the air, before rolling onto his side and vomiting violently. Dean dry-heaves until there is nothing left, the veins in his neck pulsing with the force. Warmth is still flooding through Sam, Dean collapsing into his lap. Sam pulls him up and wraps his arms around him, smiling though his tears, Dean’s heart beating through the shivers racking his body.
“Sam,” Dean rasps.
Sam kisses every part of Dean’s skin he can, until he finds his brother’s mouth, knowing the warmth he’s created deep inside is flooding into Dean.
“Well, can’t say I was expecting that,” the demon child says, opening her hand, a small tin box materializing on her palm. “You two need to get a room. But – oh – you did that already, didn't you? That was quite a show this afternoon.” It’s an abomination coming from the little girl’s mouth. She throws the box at them and turns to walk away. “This isn’t over yet, Winchester. Another day, another time one of you will come back and want a favor. And I can guarantee I won’t be feeling generous.”
“Sam,” Dean asks, Sam’s trembling fingers opening the box. He pulls out the identification badge with Dean’s face and name on it. He and Sam both look up, but the demon is gone.
“Shh,” Sam whispers. “I’ve got you now. It’s over.”
Sam slowly stands, pulling Dean up with him. He doesn’t know how much longer this new power he discovered is going to last and they need to get back to the Impala before the warmth bleeds from his body. He throws Dean’s arm over his shoulder and half-carries him through the snow.
“How?” Dean asks, coughing as they limp back to the car.
Sam glances to the gray sky and says a silent prayer of thanks. He looks down at Dean and kisses his cold, hard lips, willing warmth into them with everything he has.
“I think you got your Hail Mary pass.”